


Ever Inspire

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [29]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Gen, Humor, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: It takes a certain type of man to become an officer in Captain Rex's Torrent.  Dogma can see that man in Lt Hardcase.
Series: Soft Wars [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 38
Kudos: 669





	Ever Inspire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Serenity. Courage. Wisdom.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423080) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 



> I had heard that some people might had been doubting my boy. Doubting his officerishness. I have come to correct that. We stan Hardcase. Violently. That is all.

“Anyone know why we’re here?”

There’s some awkward shuffling around the semicircle. To Dogma’s left someone coughs, and in his periphery he can see someone else tuck their legs in closer. No one answers.

“GAR’s best and brightest,” he mutters and Tup stifles a choke.

“Yes!” Lt Hardcase calls with, in Dogma’s mind, excessive enthusiasm to his raised hand.

“Sir to address training inefficiencies and close gaps in our knowledge base sir!” The traditional manner of responding to a superior officer falls a little flat to his ears. It’s probably something to do with the fact that he’s never sir-yes-sir’ed while sitting criss-cross on the ground before.

Pure reflex has him snatching the projectile out of the air moments before it hits his nose. It crinkles.

“You answered my first ever question in my first ever training,” Lt Hardcase exults, beaming. “I mean you weren’t _entirely_ right but you got initiative! I like it! You get a snack cake.”

Dogma turns the package over. It’s meiloroon flavored.

There’s a bag next to Lt Hardcase’s knee, and the harsh lights of the gymnasium glint off multicolored flimsifoil peeking out of the top. A ripple of heightened awareness rips through the seated privates.

“So I don’t know about you guys. But _I’m_ here.” Lt Hardcase pauses for a breath. “Because Captain Rex made me.”

Someone Dogma can’t see at the other end of the semicircle giggles. Another snack cake goes flying. “First laugh!” Lt Hardcase proclaims. “Snack cake.” He grabs the holopad at his feet and a stylus. “First. Joke. Went. _Great_ ,” he narrates and pretends to make a note. Someone else chokes. Dogma thinks it’s Tup again. “ _Second_ joke looking good.”

Is he pretending? At this angle, Dogma can’t see. He has to be though. He’s an _officer_.

“So I’m gonna give you guys some real wise words. And I know they’re wise, cuz Captain Rex said em.” Lt Hardcase’s face goes serious. “Being shiny. Being inexperienced, under-trained, unknowledgeable. That is not a _defect_.”

Dogma feels himself straightening. He’s not sure if he’s breathing.

“And it’s something we can fix.” His eyes go around the room, and Dogma follows his gaze. There’s the beginning of what looks like painful hope starting to spread. They’re speedies, every last one of them. Kamino doesn’t churn out anything else anymore. They’ve all known since they were decanted that necessity mandated speed, and speed mandated that the scientists got slack on weeding out defects. “Time,” Lt Hardcase booms. “And opportunity. That’s all we need.” He pauses and looks over their heads consideringly. “And training sims, but that doesn’t sound as inspiring.”

Laughs and the weighted moment pops like a soap bubble, but something warm stays curled in Dogma’s chest.

“But on that topic, I’ve been firmly advised by Kix not to ask the next question. Medics are your friends by the way. They care very much about you. Try to remember that, it’s not always easy. Anyway! My next question, I’ve been told _not_ to ask you, and not just because you’re gonna get it wrong. So I’m just gonna answer it instead.”

Lt Hardcase stands and starts pacing a loose, easy track in front of them. “What we _do_ do with ‘defects’ is we find the parts where they’re _not_ defective and we put them there. You hyperfocus on small details?” He’s not looking at Dogma but he’s speaking directly to him, Dogma knows. He _must be_. “The Jesse’s got a _ton_ of reporting he’s always bugging the Captain for more analysts for.”

There’s a job for him. There’s a job that _Dogma_ can do. Not just can do, but could be _good_ at, just by being himself. Tup reaches over and grips Dogma’s forearm, and Dogma grips back.

“You not good around a bunch of people? This,” Lt Hardcase says, and picks up a massive cannon from a corner. He handles it professionally, barrel down at all times, but with obvious fondness. “This is the ZP-105 rotary cannon. I named her Naberrie, after the nicest lady I know. Best friend a vod1 can have, always got your back and _great_ and making those people you don’t wanna deal with maintain standoff accurate up to 500 meters if you’re using adaptive sights.”

Lt Hardcase grins around the laughing group of brothers, all of them to a man relaxed and eager in a way none of them had been when they’d first reported.

“You can’t shoot, you can’t analyze, fine. Ratchet needs folks finding air leaks so we don’t suffocate. Kix needs folks grabbing all the pointy stuff he needs to keep a vod’s insides inside. Gourmet needs someone to charm his roasted tuber recipe out of him, even if he doesn’t know it yet. We got somewhere for you, vode2, don’t worry. _That’s_ why you’re here.” The Lt meets Dogma’s eyes. He moves to Tup’s. He goes around the circle and Dogma knows he’s meeting the eyes of every individual brother in the room. “My job’s to find your thing,” he says finally. “And on the way to doing that we’re gonna all find a _lot_ of things that aren’t your thing. That’s life. It sucks, suck it up. You’re gonna kriff up a _ton_ but at some point you’re gonna not kriff up. Or kriff something up less than usual. Or even kriff up, but impressive enough to become legend. Either way.” He claps his hands. “Pep talk done, everyone up!”

He flits among them much faster than Dogma would have expected for someone built as broad as he is. “Partner up. We’re not gonna do sims today, everyone go ahead and sigh in relief. That’s tomorrow, everyone go ahead and groan. Don’t worry, they’re gonna be _fun_. Probably more fun for me though.”

Dogma and Tup fall in automatically, following his prompts to start sparring keeping a distant eye on the pair sparring closest to them so they don’t get in each other’s way. The Lt’s encouragements and corrections fade into a background buzz.

“Hey,” Tup mutters. Dogma dodges his upper strike. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Dogma kicks at Tup’s knee. Misses. “Yeah. Yeah I think so.”

“And if you guys get through all the sims without hating me I might be happy enough to make you a cake! The Domino guys found a recipe on the holonet and they said it didn’t look that hard.”

Tup’s eyes go _wild_.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Brother. Back  
> 2\. Brothers. Back
> 
> Just in case you were curious about that last line, refers to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425900/chapters/56374504)


End file.
